


Outside, People Talk

by ZandraGorin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coming Out, Implied Slash, M/M, Secret Relationship, implied established relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24103987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZandraGorin/pseuds/ZandraGorin
Summary: Harry wishes they know who it is but at the same time, Harry doesn't want them to know.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 91





	Outside, People Talk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yesbocchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yesbocchan/gifts).
  * Inspired by [This art and its accompanying piece](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/618391) by yesbocchan. 



Outside, people are talking. Whispering. They all know that someone’s here.

Here with him. Harry Potter. The _Chosen One_. The _Boy Who Lived_. The person they know by little else but the names they had chosen to condemn him with.

Harry wishes they know who it is— who makes Harry shiver and tremble underneath questing hands, night after night, until the night bleeds light and the darkness gives way to the sigh of morning, of another day where they’d have to wait under the guise of moonlight to come together and come apart. Harry wants all of them to know how he chants Draco’s name like a prayer, a benediction of which Draco answers with prayers of his own.

Harry wants them to know. Wants them to see the kisses he sears on Draco’s skin, wants his hands to leave glowing imprints of _mine-mine-mine_ and cleanse Draco’s body of anyone’s touch other than his. He wants to lay claim to Draco as he pushes in, Draco’s heat enveloping him, coating his being.

Welcoming.

Accepting.

Owning.

But at the same time, Harry doesn’t want them to know— how he has Draco’s body so deeply imprinted to his memory that Harry’s hands can see, and his mouth can feel, and his eyes can whisper, and even when all his senses become overloaded with Draco, confused and lost they are not. Even blind in the night, deaf in the forced hush of secrecy, incoherent with desire, Harry knows how to make his lover fall apart.

Harry wants them to know that Draco has a map of Harry’s body on his mouth, on his palms, on the tips of his fingers. That he knows all the routes to guide Harry into songs of praises and pleas and sighs and exaltation. That Draco frees Harry with his strong hands, pins him into calm surrender and release. That Draco gives Harry so much, _so much_ , so much more than he deserves and Harry fears one day Draco would find someone else more worthy— who can give him as much as Harry takes each night, who can leave him with something more than Harry can each morning.

Draco is so much more than Harry deserves and Harry doesn’t want them to know.

Rage and anguish chase away the last peaceful slivers of sleep just as Harry thinks of someone else seeing Draco right this moment— sleep-soft and languid and open and _his—_ seeing how Draco allows Harry to savor the remaining tendrils of night before it’s completely wiped away by the banishing rays of sunlight.

Harry kisses Draco’s chest, lets the echo of last night’s kisses warm the cold jealousy and paint contentment on his lips. He smiles. ‘Morning’.

Draco touches him like Harry’s worthy of this tenderness, cups his face and kisses him like he’s hung the stars and the moon, kisses Harry like nothing else matters.

‘Morning’, comes Draco’s voice, hushed in the sea of secrecy that they are starting to drown in. They stay close, huddled, barely managing to stay afloat.

Harry kisses Draco. Each kiss is a breath of air, each kiss is a pull to the surface, each kiss is leading them to shore, away from the tug of the dark waters they chose to hide in.

Harry’s thick bed curtains muffle the growing whispers beyond it, but there’s no darkness to hide them now. There’s no ocean of moonlight to drown in. There’s only the brightness of grey eyes lit by streams of sunlight, threatening to be dimmed by uncertainty and questions as Draco looks at Harry. Waiting. Harry thinks, hoping.

Harry wants them to know. Wants them to see the brightness and brilliance and warmth he sees in Draco’s eyes even when they’re in the cover of shadows and night. Wants them to see that Draco glows brighter than the moon, twinkles brighter than the stars, shines brighter than the sun. For Harry. Because of Harry. Because of them, _together_.

It’s for him and Draco. Not for anyone else. ‘We don’t owe them anything,’ he whispers, just for the two of them. And as he straddles Draco’s hips, watches the uncertainty and questions gradually fade and burst into delight and affection and love as grey eyes watch him, Harry feels warmth explode in his chest alongside the courage that makes his voice fill the room. ‘What are you waiting for, Malfoy?’

They surface, no longer drowning. They surface, no longer cloaked in heavy shadows, bathed in warm sunlight.

Outside, people are talking. Whispering. They all know that Draco's here.

And Harry couldn’t be happier.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, all Harry Potter canon characters belong to JKR.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments/Kudos make my day.:) Holler at me on [tumblr](https://zandragorin.tumblr.com/)!:D


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